


Customer Support

by funkymoths



Category: The Bastards Crew
Genre: Canon typical bastardom, Gen, Violence, there is major character death but he gets better, this is basically just how Bishop got his mech
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 07:16:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19168417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funkymoths/pseuds/funkymoths
Summary: “Are you even a doctor?”“Uh.” Bishop paused. “I have, um, medical training,”





	Customer Support

“Alright listen here, Doctor.” The man grunted, cracking his knuckles. “We’ve had enough of your scams around these parts.”

 

“I’m sure we can figure out some kind of compromise.” Bishop stammered, taking a step back. “I am more than happy to refund your-“

 

“Are you even a doctor?”

 

“Uh.” Bishop paused. “I have, um, medical training.” He held out his arms in a sign of surrender, trying to put distance between himself and the big, angry man.

 

“My son is never going to walk again because of you!” The man yelled.

 

“I said he wouldn’t lose the leg, I never said he would be able to walk on it.” Bishop protested. The man’s fist swung at him, and it hit his jaw with a sickening crunch. As Bishop stumbled backwards, the man lunged forward, wrapping his meaty hand around Bishop’s flimsy prosthetic arm. With a tug, he pulled the arm right out of its socket.

 

“You took my son’s leg, so I’m going to take your fucking arm!”

 

“Listen, Mister…” Bishop struggled to his feet, trying to remember the man’s last name, and wiping the blood off his face.

 

“Ford.”

 

“Mister Ford. I understand you were unhappy with your service. If we could just discuss this reasonably..” Bishop was cut off by Ford striking him across the face, with his own severed mechanical arm no less. He could feel the cheap metal scrape into his skin, leaving long jagged cuts. The force of the hit managed to knock Bishop to the floor, all the air being pushed out of his lungs.

 

“Unhappy with my service is a bit of an understatement, I think.” Ford grimaced, looking down on Bishop. Although Bishop was tall, Ford was taller, and was built more densely. If Bishop was a fence post, Ford was a brick wall. “And I’m here to take it up with customer support.”

 

“Well, fuck.” Bishop cursed under his breath. He tried to shakily prop himself up on his remaining arm, but a sharp pain in his ribcage kept him on the ground.

 

Chuckling like a schoolyard bully, Ford whacked Bishop on the head with the arm again. It hurt like hell, and Bishop could see his vision shifting in and out of focus. He could taste the coppery blood in his mouth, and for a moment, he felt as though he might pass out. Before Bishop got a chance to recover, the arm came down again, hitting shoulder with a crack.

 

Bishop had gotten into scrapes with unhappy customers before; it was almost a given considering he made a living as a scammer. But he’d just assumed he’d make out unscathed every time, hopping on his ship and soaring off the planet and into the horizon. As the metal arm hit him again and again, he began to wonder if his days of ripping off innocent people were ending. Is there some kind of god I should pray to? He asked himself. This might be the end.

 

It wasn’t as though he didn’t deserve it. Objectively speaking, Bishop has caused more harm than good. Even he didn’t know exactly how many lives he’d ruined.

 

And as Ford beat him repeatedly with his own arm, he began to apologize. To his father, for running away from home to pursue his selfish dreams. To Ford, for crippling the man’s son. To the staff at the university, for breaking all of their rules and for the awful experiments he carried out. To all the people he’d ripped off, for...well, everything. To Victor.

 

To himself.

 

It was cold. The pain was white hot, but everything else was cold. Bishop’s left eye was almost swollen shut, and every part of him was bruised and bloody. He managed a hacking cough, more blood pouring out of his mouth. His ribs felt as though they were on fire, but it gave him no warmth. Bishop squinted up at Ford, who had halted momentarily to catch his breath.

 

“I-I’m sorry.” Bishop croaked. He managed a shaky breath in, and then everything went dark and cold.

 

—-

 

His eyes flew open. Am I dead? Bishop got to his feet, shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight. He was standing in front of his ship, which was a good distance from his encounter with Ford.

 

Bishop looked over at his right arm, expecting to see the frayed wires from where it had been ripped from his body. Instead, there was a new arm. It was expertly made, better than any of Bishop’s inventions. Flexing and moving it, he found that it moved just as well as his flesh and blood arm.

 

“What the hell?” He rolled up the sleeve of his bloodstained shirt, examining the new limb. Wedged between his metal fingers was a small folded up square of paper. In a loopy cursive font, it read:

 

Dear Doctor Letchford,

 

I am a fan of you work. I hope you appreciate the gifts.

 

  * Doctor Carmilla




 

“Huh.” Bishop muttered, turning the note over in. hands. He was almost sure he had died; a beating like the one Ford gave him wasn’t something you could come back from. Is this purgatory? Or hell? He wondered. The thought of getting into heaven didn’t really cross his mind.

 

Is this my second chance? Bishop asked himself. To be a better person, to actually help people? He glanced over at his tiny ship, which was still filled to the brim with unsold gadgets of his own design, and laughed to himself. Self improvement can wait just a bit.

 

He stuck his hands in his pockets, and began to walk back to his ship.

**Author's Note:**

> bishop is The Worst but i love him a lot okay


End file.
